It was an odd motorcycle choice for a cross-country ride, especially when you consider that my options included both Valkyrie and Ace Tourers. So what made me sling bags on this motorcycle built for the boulevard and set out on a cross-country journey? Simple. It hadn't been done. And my editor told me to. So by God, I was going boldly where no rider had gone before... whether I liked it or not.
The Aero's a beauty, there is no dispute. But partnering successfully with a bike day in and day out for two weeks is about more than a great set of whitewalls or a long, shiny pipe. I hadn't been left with a favorable impression of the Aero's designated seating position during a three-day test earlier in the year. And I'd given it low marks for excessive vibration as well.
More Than Paint Deep
So I had my concerns about comfort as I headed east, and just a lick and a promise about the bike's performance abilities. Three hundred miles into the first day though, with the popsicle-perfect orange and cream Aero already covered in insects, I began to relax. No hint of aches or pains at this point was a good indicator the trip was doable without investing in an economy-sized bottle of Advil. And the bike's well-tuned exhaust seemed to blend perfectly with my lust for the adventure. Its subtle roar is ever present at low speeds but barely discernable on the highway where it could become tiresome.
My planned escape route was pretty much a straight shot across Interstate 40, but toward the end of my second day of droning I was already desperate to get off the slab. I also knew it was in my best interest. No one rides well when they're bored and my concentration level had dropped to a trickle. I found myself more intent on dialing in my audio system than dodging the tire treads that litter the truck routes. I decided to break away from the stream of vehicles moving mindlessly across the country like so many ants on the linoleum. From Flagstaff I traveled north into the mythical Monument Valley.
The Aero is a whopping 101-inches long from the front tire to the rear chrome fender extension. This is great for the long, low visual impact, but the stretched wheel base generates a hinge effect evident at high speeds and in sweeping corners. Couple that with the Aero's firm suspension and hitting any pavement irregularity mid-corner creates an unsettling sway. This wallow was definitely exaggerated by the weighty load strapped to the bike's rear end. (Damn those hot rollers!) Balancing and redistributing the load to place the greatest weight low and center affected the gyration to greater or lesser degree, but never eliminated the problem. Shifting my own weight forward however, usually settled the bike back into a smooth, steady line.
Eventually, what I came to think of as "Aerobic affect" ceased to annoy me. I learned when to expect it and the motion proved both benign and correctable. I was also sure if I lost the luggage and kept my feet on the floorboards, and off the rear pegs, the Aero would seldom misbehave.
Why You Need to Inspect Your Bike
However, somewhere along the way a mounting bracket holding the Aero's chrome exhaust shield suffered a stress fracture. Thinking it was a loose baffle, I rode on for several days. Eventually, I spotted the broken clamp, hanging somewhat-dangerously close to the swingarm's path of travel. Though unlikely, it could have upset the if it stopped the swingarm abruptly, especially if it happened when the bike was already unsettled. It was a good reminder that even when you're on your machine constantly, it's wise to inspect it thoroughly each day.
You cannot travel through Monument Valley without feeling a sense of awe. The great monoliths speak loudly to the soul. For the ancestral Native Americans this was a magical place and a link to their gods. Today, the magic is tempered by a people who's gods seem to have forgotten them. There's a thick feeling of despair and anger among the ancient valley's descendants who live on a reservation plagued with teen pregnancy, disdain for schooling and drug and alcohol abuse. A couple years back my husband and I were riding just east of The Valley when a young Native American man literally threw himself in front of our bikes. He seemed disoriented, so we turned around to see if he was in trouble. When we got close enough he pelted us with rocks.
Dodging Beer Cans
On this trip, what was thrown at my bike were empty beer cans from the back of a pickup. I had found myself on a lonely stretch of road when I passed the truck packed with high-school-age kids drinking beer. Those crammed into the camper shell held up their cans in a grinning salute as I rode by. I waved and went on my way. A couple of miles later the pickup was bearing down on me at 80-plus mph. With 20 miles until the next cross road and unresolved questions about how the Aero would handle a sweeper at triple digits, I decided not to outrun them. Instead, after letting them get within feet of my fender, I whipped the Aero into the left-hand lane and bore down on the brakes, holding them at threshold.
The Aero performed this difficult and abrupt maneuver perfectly. The brakes, when used aggressively in tandem, are quite powerful. In normal braking situations, however, I found the lone dual-caliper front disc a bit wimpy and subject to fade. Use of the rear disc was essential for quick, settled stops aboard the Aero and I found myself using it alone as a way to reload the suspension, when needed, in corners.
The pickup shot passed me just as I'd expected. I wanted to interpret this troublesome lot from behind rather than allow them to chase me cat and mouse. It was a long, slow match. I cringed as I watched them crest hills and round corners in the oncoming lane, forcing hapless tourists into a game of chicken. The beer cans were easy enough to dodge but I was glad to be returning to the Interstate and its methodical movement. Enough excitement for the time being. After four days on the road I was anything but bent and broken and was gathering expectations that I'd complete the trip with nothing more serious than a sore butt. The expansive ergonomics proved to offer a multitude of seating options. The flat, forward-set floorboards alone offered a great degree of lower-body adjustment and if it weren't for the car-sized brake pedal, they could have doubled as freeway pegs. My favored posture employed the rear pegs which allowed me to angle my upper body against the wind and more comfortably handle the wide bar.
Geared Up
Honda had installed its petite, clear windshield on this Aero before I left town. It looks terrific because it doesn't detract from the bike's clean lines or take away from the classic chrome headlight assembly by using thick cross straps and mounting hardware. Only two thin vertically-mounted brackets support it. I really thought it too small to be of benefit and feared it was so far forward the wake of turbulence it created would hit me right in the chest. The turbulence did create some buffeting up around my helmet but the little shield did a fine job blocking the wind from my torso. And best of all, I could see cleanly over the top.
The Aero is substantial by every measurement, but I didn't appreciate the weightiness of the machine until I pitted it against fierce cross winds in the Southwest. It was rock steady, even when the gusts felt like they were going to tear me right from the seat.